Saturday, 9 October 2010

stuffed tarragon chicken

It being the weekend - and a rugby weekend at that - we share the parenting duties today, before rendezvousing later at home to prepare for the arrival of the divine Matt and Virginie for dinner.

So whilst I spend the morning abortively trying to park at Brentford Fountains, before giving up and going to Richmond instead, Ana tidies and reclines at home. Then whilst her and Milo go to Zac's birthday party in Putney, I'm totally p'wn-ing the Esher backrow.

With monkey tucked up in bed, we put the Christmas knife skills to good use to joint and take the supremes off of two chickens for the stuffed tarragon chicken, and my usual knife action to cut up some pears.

I'm especially pleased I'd pretty much remembered how to joint the birds and whilst one (Ana's as she doesn't like skin) was a bit duff, the others were aces. Not only that all the thighs and drumsticks went into the freezer, and the two carcasses went into the fridge to make stock. However one of these two actions will come back to haunt me.

Tonight we start with Donna Hay's caramelised pear and rocket salad, which really benefits from leaving the roquefort out for a bit before crumbling over the pears...

...chocolate raspberry torte (not homemade), stinking bishop cheese and biscuits and then more chocolate and half a bottle of sloe gin. No wonder the pictures are all a little blurry, but at least I got a picture of them this time:

Despite their loveliness I find them really hard to cook for, and I always feel I have to raise my game, because every time we eat around theirs they do the full monty very very well. And they supply amazing cheese. Not that I don't love all your cooking special friends, just these two are the closest to proper chefs I know. Damn their eyes.